One-Third Gun
by Cadence
Summary: Chapter 2! The GHGs get a turn. Fusion with . . . well, I'm sure you can figure it out.
1. Drying Off

yet more opportunities for cross-dressing

**1/3 Gun:**

Drying Off

"I can't believe you three went off to those hot springs without me!"

Vash paused in the fierce towel drying he'd been giving his hair to arch an eyebrow at the priest, "They weren't actually hot, y'know."

The group had reconvened back in the shared room of the male portion of the group for the explanation both Vash and the insurance girls had been delaying since Wolfwood had come upon them that afternoon. Delaying in no small part due to the dark haired man's persistent cajoling, pouting, and whining, but perhaps more related to the horrified glances both Vash and Meryl seemed to share every other sentence.

Partaking of the opportunity to once again do so, Vash shot a slightly ironic look to the bed space Meryl had staked out for kvetching and drying her blouse, "I think we might have been gypped."

The short insurance girl pushed the long sleeves of her nightshirt back angrily, growling back, "You _think_? May I remind you what happened.," the hand clutching her blouse snapped jerkily out at him before recoiling, "to us?!"

"So you didn't like it?" Milly asked.

Neither Vash nor Meryl forbore answering.

Wolfwood stubbed out his cigarette, stalking over to Vash, "That's it! What the hell happened out there?"

The outlaw's gaze slipped away from the man who had quite suddenly, and violently, seized his shoulders as he searched for words. Ill of patience, Wolfwood shook him, "Well?"

Vash shrugged, "It's difficult to explain. But!" he cut off as Wolfwood applied pressure, "But I'll try. We didn't so much go to the hot springs as _find_ them . . ."

***

Vash leaned back against the jeep, struggling to take in the sight before him. Behind him Meryl's jaw dropped open before she recovered herself enough to feign indifference and examine her companions suspiciously. Milly loudly clasped her hands together in joy.

"Oh wow! Look at that, ma'am."

Assured that her reputation was _not_ in jeopardy, the short girl once more allowed her expression to slip into awe. Quietly, she murmured, "I know, Milly."

Stretching to the horizon was a rust colored mesa - weathered to fine, silk-like power on the edges that billowed out nearly to the companions - shining in patches with bright alkali frost and pocked with hundred - if not thousands - of shimmering pools. The springs glinted merrily under the double-suns, weaving beneath warped air. Many were marked with signs, unreadable from their current vantage. Built on the insecure soils of the mesa's border stood a small, dilapidated house and a broken road that curved beside it.

Vash flipped a grin over his shoulder, "So . . . shall we?"

The girls nodded enthusiastically. He jumped into the back of the vehicle, for once only making a token grab at the keys. Under other circumstances, Meryl might have hoped that he'd given up his delusions of driving ability. As it was, she merely rolled with the temporary good fortune and attributed the boon to the sight that had obviously provoked it.

Their car was uniquely well-tuned and hummed quite easily over to the shabby dwelling. Vash hopped from the car moments before Meryl actually stopped it, finding his feet with characteristic grace.

The door of the house swung idly in the heat, a darkened room beyond it. Vash thumbed his sunglasses down his nose, taking a few steps to peer in more closely. There appeared to be no occupants.

Reaching the doorstep, he called hesitantly, "Hello? Is anyone home? We're lonely travelers who'd like to talk and play in your pools."

Meryl dropped her head into her hands, mumbling, "They don't need that much information."

Ignorant of her admonition, Vash peeked in through open door before stepping all the way through. Meryl pressed her palms into her eyes. After several moments, the blonde gunman reemerged.

He frowned slightly at his friends, "There doesn't seem to be anyone home. Oh well, I'm sure he won't mind if we do a little exploring."

"_Mister_ Vash! Are you suggesting that we trespass?"

He sauntered back to the car, smirking , "Noooo. Since I just did, I'm suggesting that we flee the crime scene."

"And take baths!" Milly nodded sharply, clearly on cue with Vash.

Meryl crossed her arms, "As agents looking out for the welfare of the general populace I cannot condone this!"

Vash leaned against her door, "You know you want to."

She stared ahead, resolutely ignoring the way his breath caressed her cheek and ruffled her hair.

"It's been a long day. It's always so hot and we've been traveling. Can't you just feel your shirt sticking against your skin, catching against all that road dust. Stinging and hot."

Her grey eyes met aqua ones unwillingly. She choked back a sigh and he leaned closer to her. Lips against her ear, eyes half-lidded, he breathed, "C'mon, Meryl. Break the law."

Meryl swallowed convulsively, unconsciously tagging "with me" onto his words. Slowly, she smiled, "Sounds like fun."

He pulled back from her grinning manically, "Besides, it sure beats running from bounty hunters all day!"

As Vash collapsed into his high-pitched, psychotic peals of laughter, the smile faded from Meryl's face. Milly patted at her arm, "There there, Meryl. I'm sure he's not . . . um, that is, I'm sure Mr. Vash didn't mean . . . uh . . ."

The tall brunette trailed off, eyes searching inwardly for placations. Meryl sighed, "Yes, he did, Milly."

Milly sighed, "Yeah."

Vash's cackling was briefly interrupted as he inhaled the dust kicked up by the jeep as Meryl gunned it up the slope. He blinked wildly as the cloud dissipated.

"Girls! Wait! What did I do?"

***

Wolfwood snorted, "Sounds about right, Tongari. So you were up there avoiding the bounty hunters that came in last night. Why didn't you take me with you?"

Vash's hand scrubbed sheepishly behind his head, "I guess we just left too quickly, that's all."

The priest's flinty blue eyes flickered over Vash's face skeptically, "Yeah, I'm sure."

Behind Wolfwood's back, Milly opened her mouth and Meryl dove to cover it. Vash thanked her silently over his friend's shoulder. Her face scrunched together.

With a glare, she mouthed back, "You owe me."

Wolfwood slapped Vash on the back, "Anyway! You still haven't answered my other question."

The blonde rubbed at the soon-to-be bruise, grumbling, "Isn't patience supposed to be a virtue? I was _getting_ to that."

***

"Why didn't you invite Mr. Priest, Mr. Vash?" asked Milly as she toed off her shoe.

The outlaw lay in the soft red silt, sifting it through his fingers, "Hmm? Oh, well I thought he'd like to take care of those awful, sinning bounty hunters by himself. We'd really only get in his way. And you wouldn't want that, would you? After all, it _is_ the work of God."

Milly looked stricken, "Oh no! I wouldn't want that." Vash chuckled slightly. "You're such a good man for helping Mr. Priest out like that."

Stripping off her cloak, Meryl spared Vash a withering glare, "I doubt that's what he'll say. Cut the crap, Vash, to you his work is being a _decoy_."

Vash shrugged, red coat blending against red grains, "He chooses his own work, I cannot say what label _you_ may give it."

"Hmph!"

Milly blinked, tears gathering in her large eyes, "Is that true, Mr. Vash?"

"Eh, he can take of himself."

Suddenly, a thought occurred collectively to the group. As one, their gazes turned back to the jeep. And the large, cloth covered cross that rested in the back seat. They blinked.

"Probably take care of himself," Vash amended.

Milly stared at him.

Meryl just ignored him, attention fixed solely on the sweet, refreshing, wet, cool, _beautiful_ pool in front of her. Confirming that Vash was flat on his back, and ignoring the ideas that provoked, she shed her boots and tights and - she glanced back again, just in case - skirt. She unbuttoned her blouse, but left it on.

Dragging her cloak to the edge of the pool, she daintily lifted a toe toward that enchanting water.

"No! You mustn't!"

A body flew out of nowhere, tackling her to the ground and denying her that watery comfort. Immediately, she pushed at him, gripping where her nails caught. The figure, a man, attempted to roll away, but she held fast - cutting him in little crescents.

"How dare you! You pervert! Get off of me."

Wincing, he replied, "I'm . . . trying."

"Oh," abashed, Meryl freed him. Peripherally, she was aware of Milly blushing and pulling what little she'd disrobed back together and Vash, sitting up to watch them curiously. Meryl's eyes widened. Her hands struggled to find the nearest object - her boot. Aim impaired by fingers tangling to kept her blouse closed, she nonetheless threw it at him with considerable strength.

"Don't look!" she shrieked as he did _not_ dodge.

"Ahem."

Meryl glared at her assailant, burning away the irritation on his face, "Do you have an explanation for attacking me?"

The man took a breath, marshaling his confidence in light of her searing, furious eyes, "Yes. I just saved you. These springs are all cursed."

"R-iii-ght. Have you been out in the sun very long? Curses don't exist."

"Now, Meryl, don't be so closed minded," called Vash as he strode over. Scrutinizing the other man, he asked, "You're the owner of that house and these springs, aren't you?"

The man raised an eyebrow, "I may own the house, but I'm merely the guardian here."

"So they really are cursed?"

The guardian shrugged, "I guess. I've never seen it happen, but I've also never allowed anyone into a pool. The risk is too dire."

"Hold it! You mean this is just a legend?"

***

"Hold it! Do you really expect me to believe this? I knew you were bad at lying, but couldn't you even try?"

Vash let out an exasperated breath, throwing his soaked towel to the floor, "If I were lying, wouldn't I make it something _good_ that happened to us?"

"Of course not! Then I'd _know_ you were lying. Since it's bad, it shows that you're trying to fool me!" he cried triumphantly.

"So you're not going to believe anything I say?"

"Exactly!"

Across the room, Meryl groaned, "Anyway!"

***

"Maybe, but I'm certainly not chancing this legend being true."

Vash's hand clamped down on her white-clad shoulder, "Well, you can empathize with that, can't you, Meryl?"

She bit her lip and tried to control the angry tremors his touch was creating. Why could he always provoke her?

The guardian's eyes slid from her to Vash and back, "Um, whatever."

"So what does the curse do?" asked Milly, joining them.

He shifted uncomfortably, "That's actually the reason these springs are so dangerous. I don't know."

The group huddled themselves before him, attentively listening as he continued, "Legend has it that when the colonization project was first initiated, a group from a certain area of the world petitioned for specific authorization to carry some of their sacred homeland with them. Although much of it had been contaminated, the government approved of the water samples that they gathered. These waters were frozen into the cold sleep along with the worshipers.

"After the Fall, these people awoke and did their best to preserve the shreds of their culture in face of this harsh new environment. They found this place and consecrated it with their holy waters, pouring each sample into a separate pool. Those where this was done are labeled with these signs."

He sighed, looking at the sun-bleached sign of the nearest spring, "Unfortunately, most of the signs have been weathered so badly that they're unreadable now. Those that aren't were written in a dialect _I_ barely understand, let alone any visitors. That's why I've become a little . . . militant in carrying out my duty."

They were silent a moment, contemplating the history of the place - transplanted and ancient both. To touch something from the old world . . . It was such a fantastical thought

Vash recovered first, "But I still don't see the problem."

The guide raked a hand though his hair, dark and matted with sweat, "All of the original pools were cursed. After a creature had drown in one, any other being to fall into that pool would take on the form of the original victim." At the mix of disbelieving and horrified stares, he added, "But it's not permanent . . . I think. Legend also says that after the initial dunk, warm water will change the unfortunate cursee back to normal and cold water will activate it."

Milly furrowed her eyebrows together, "But there isn't much water around anyway."

"There's more than you think. Just because we don't have lakes or reliable rainfall doesn't mean there aren't canteens or troughs or showers or even cheap beers."

***

"Do I have to go on?" pled Vash suddenly.

"Yes," drawled his listener.

"B-but! I'm sure you can figure out what happened next!"

He looked to the short girl for help. Meryl shook her head slowly, "I haven't decided whether or not to forgive for that next part, so no way in _hell_ am I letting you off easy here."

"Plus," the priest continued, "you can't stop now that you've got me all hot and bothered about what's next."

***

The guardian and Vash spent a few minutes away from the girls, allowing Meryl to dress, talking over the historical details of the water's original home.

"Do you know what region they were from?"

The guardian shrugged, "My father never taught me. Those names would have been as meaningless to me as they were to him."

Vash clenched his fist. It figured that not only would the last vestiges of any distinct Earth-culture be inaccessible and religiously guarded, but that their heritage would be equally lost to this world.

"What about the dialect? What's it called?"

He caught his breath suddenly, a piercing, dangerous sensation spilling over his mind. Over, behind, around the words the guardian was speaking he could feel something. Something editing everything else from his senses.

Narrowing his eyes, Vash interrupted an unheard oratory, "Get out of here."

"W-what?" the guardian stuttered.

Feeling that something enclose around him, Vash pushed the man toward the sloping road, "Get away!"

Tingling behind him, Vash could feel the confusion and determination of the girls. But no fear. He smiled grimly at the inappropriate trust.

"Meryl. Milly. Go back to the jeep."

He didn't see their nods, but small feet clomped against the ground and he felt their drifting dust brush against his boots.

His eyes scanned the horizon, focused arcs of blue-green over the vista. Uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. He didn't see him . . .

Shit.

There!

In the air, against the blue. Vash swore again, out loud. It was going straight toward the girls.

Black. Dark and smooth like a bullet. He thought he heard a hollowed laugh from the capsule, but desperate and running he didn't care if he had.

If Vash had ever been able to count luck as one of his allies, he would have said that it was by luck alone that he was able to tag Meryl out of the path of that menacing shape and it's staccato bursts of weapon's fire. As it was, he tumbled into the dirt thanking the traction of his boots. The bullet ricocheted away, again to the sky, as Vash pulled himself into a decently defensible position behind the jeep.

His cursory search before he sighted the shaped rocketing in his direction once more turned up Milly - slipping down the mesa with the guardian - but no Meryl. He fought down a stab of panic, and drew his gun.

Or tried to. The shape was getting ever closer - at God only knew what velocity - but a wasteful glance told him the revolver had fallen with him earlier, but hadn't come up with him.

Shit, again!

This was not good.

Vash backed futilely away from the bullet. His arm grazed against the jeep, remembering the feel of the metal, the cheap vinyl seats, the cloth cross.

The Humanoid Typhoon smirked. Oh yeah. The cross.

> > ***

"You touched my Cross Punisher! You! You? Lord forgive me, but I am going to . . ."

Vash shuffled hastily away from the irate priest, dodging some of the most vicious swipes he'd seen in years. Wolfwood gritted his teeth at his amateur misses, concentrating with more finesse and less raw anger to knock the outlaw down.

Shoving an elbow into Vash's neck, he demanded, "Is that how it happened? Is that how you hurt my precious Cross Punisher?"

Milly watched with faint disapproval as Meryl grinned. She always did enjoy watching Wolfwood smack Vash around.

The blonde man gasped, "Let me up! I'm sorry! I'm sorry."

Wolfwood dug in deeper with his elbow briefly before letting up. However, he kept Vash pinned; a fate to which the gunman resigned himself.

***

It was an unwieldy fit in his hands, buckles and cloth bunching against his grip while the metal underneath seemed to inclined to slip, and the urgency of his hold certainly didn't benefit him any. But it worked.

Vash swung the huge cross against his attacker; the angle of impact on the spinning surface deflected its energy into a crash far from Vash. But that didn't save him completely. The spin flung the cross from his hands and the force applied to it by the bullet sent Vash himself flying.

All three - Vash, the bullet, and the cross - landed with splashes.

***

Wolfwood's laugh was really annoying, Vash decided. Not that it was ever pleasant to have a priest sobbing hysterical tears in the back of your neck while pounding the floor - and coincidentally one of your hands, he mused.

If possible, the screeching chortle of his friend began to rage louder, and higher. Vash leaned his face onto his free palm to wait it out.

***

Somehow, in Vash's impressive and arduous education, swimming had been skipped. It was a concern that flittered briefly through his mind as he fell into the spring. Luckily, he remembered not to inhale.

But he was suddenly in no place to congratulate himself as he felt the change sweeping over him. He could feel his flesh shifting, shrinking in some areas and . . . _not_ in others. His clothes were simultaneously too snug and too loose. His coat seemed newly large as it became water logged.

In panic, he kicked himself in a direction he hoped was up. His leggings nearly slipped off with the strokes, but he could _not_ care when his concern should be drowning.

Gasping, he finally broke the surface.

Water trickled over his eyes, and through the blurs he could see the concern of Milly and the guardian.

Milly blinked, shocked, "Mr. Vash?"

He frowned slightly, pulling himself from the pool, "Of course. Are you al-" He choked himself off. His voice . . . no, _her_ voice.

She shot a terrified look at the guardian, who only nodded sadly. No. Nononono! It just wasn't possible. Wildly, hoping for some denial of that growing knowledge in the back of her mind, she glance down. At some point, she'd lost her gloves, both of them. Bared to the daylight were two fragile, elegant hands of a woman.

Onna-Vash almost fainted.

Which would have surely killed her. Falling into cursed water no one knew enough about to touch while unconscious would have brought a quick death. But onna-Vash stayed steadily conscious as both her human companions reached out to steady her and a small cat wound itself against her legs.

Mentally, onna-Vash damned them for saving her life, That stupid cat always crops up wherever I go, but why did it have to pick now to interfere with me?

However, a closer examination revealed that it was _not_ the cat which had so long stalked her travels. This cat was far smaller, blue-black body lithe and graceful. It's head was a sharp triangle set with grey-slitted eyes.

"Oh, Meryl!" she whispered. Carefully, with no little shock that the dainty hands were actually her own, onna-Vash reached down to pet her. Meryl-neko hissed at her touch, swiping a paw to claw her. She drew back, sucking on her fingers, "Yep, that's Meryl."

She grinned at them, "This makes perfect sense. I hate my life. Would you please kill me?"

For the second time in five minutes she was denied release from . . . from these leggings threatening to fall off and noticing that Milly was taller than her. And she was. Onna-Vash collapsed to the ground, taking an unwilling Meryl-neko into her arms to pet. She held the cat tightly to her chest for a moment before nearly dropping her out of shock. Her chest too . . .

Onna-Vash was vaguely aware of Milly coaxing him up, walking him to the guardian's house. Meryl-neko was still cradled in her arms. With every step she tried to escape and by stopping her onna-Vash almost stumbled every step; her feet nearly slid from her boots.

Finally, they were there. From the couch she could hear the others talking around her.

The guardian reiterated the curses' permanence and danger, sighing about how this shouldn't happen to _informed_ people. Milly worried. She questioned him again and again over the facts she already knew.

In a fit of irritation, he replied, "I've answered that already! That's not want you want to know. You want to know if there's a cure." Milly nodded quickly. "I don't know. Maybe if they could find the springs that turn people into men and women."

She brightened suddenly, interrupting, "But we do know where the spring for women is!"

The guardian looked hesitant, "But I just don't know. What if that just gives her a new curse form? Or," he made a face, "adds on to the pre-existing one? There's no way of knowing. It's definitely not safe in any case. Maybe if I can dig up some research." He turned away from her slightly, "Some of the more religious orders . . ."

Milly's hand shot to her mouth. In a panic, she strode over to onna-Vash, kneeling before him, "Mr. Vash? Mr. Vash? What happened to Mr. Priest's cross?"

She blinked, attempting to focus on the girl, "I think . . . it landed in a pool."

Milly gasped. The guardian rubbed at his chin, "I wonder . . . no, that's not possible."

"How would you know?" Vash snapped.

Milly was please by onna-Vash's sudden responsiveness, clapping her hands together, but the guardian remained lost in thought, "Hmm, the closest springs are the only ones I know the effects of: the Drowned Girl, the Drowned Cat, the Drowned Panda, the Drowned Duck, and the Drowned Spatula. But we know it couldn't have been either of the first two . . ."

"How did a spatula drown?" asked Milly

"How did a duck drown?" returned onna-Vash, possibly more befuddled.

The big girl frowned a little, "What's a duck?"

She opened her mouth to explain, but scanned Milly's vacant expression and merely sighed, "Never mind."

Curious, the guardian left them to investigate. Through scavenging, Milly was able to turn up garments suitable for onna-Vash to change into, although not without severe embarrassment on the outlaw's part and anger on Meryl-neko's for being put down.

It turned out that Cross Punisher had indeed landed in one of the springs, with just enough still extended that the guardian could pull it free. Huffing, he lugged it into the house and propped it next to the couch. 

So it was, that fifteen minutes later that Wolfwood found Milly sitting with a strange, waifish blonde girl stroking a cat, and a gigantic spatula propped against the wall.

------------

Whee! That's so much fun to write. Suddenly, I think Gunsmoke is going to be a _lot_ wetter. The bullet was in fact Hoppered, but don't worry, more of the GHGs are going to show up soon. I bent the rules a bit for Spatula Punisher, but it's not like Wolfwood actually treats it like an inanimate object anyway. I'm sure there's something else to say, but really, most of it's going to be explained later anyway.

Ranma 1/2 is copyright (c) Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Entertainment.

Trigun is copyright (c) Yasuhiro Nightow and Young King Ours. 


	2. Shallow End

yet more opportunities for cross-dressing

1/3 - Gun

Shallow End

The suns were angled low and orange in the afternoon sky when the motorcycle the bounty hunters had "donated" to Wolfwood's church finally gave out. He glared at the grimy beast, the rivulets of oil that seeped down its once silver sides, and chewed hard on his last remaining cigarette. _What kind of bounty hunter steals your cigarettes?_ he griped mentally.

He dusted himself off, removing the body parts the bike would so dearly like to take down with it and backed a fair distance from the monstrosity. Not far off he could see a small cottage. Hopefully, his friends hadn't fled any farther than that.

Wolfwood stared solemnly at the dead bike for a moment, giving serious thought to performing last rites for it. He closed his eyes briefly, bringing folded hands up to his pursed lips.

Then his eyes snapped open. With a vindictive kick at the bike, the minister in black stalked off toward the house.

Distances were deceptive in the desert, but for once that played in Wolfwood's favor. The house turned out to be less than an ile away. In the heat, and after the strenuous morning he'd had, he doubted that could have survived any more.

When he found Vash, after of course he got a little water and nicotine into himself, he was going to kill the blonde idiot. _And if he's so much as touched my Cross Punisher_, he continued darkly,_ I'm going to kill him _more__.

As he approached the small house, he soon discovered that his hunch was right. Both a red coat and various pieces of white clothing had been strung across a drying line in front of the building. So Vash and the girls were definitely there. Naked, but there. Brushing past the line, he drew a curious thumb over Meryl's cloak. It was quite wet; Vash's coat more so.

Raising an eyebrow at no one, he stepped up the porch and knocked on the splintering door, "Hello?"

A gangly, distressed looking young man appeared suddenly from behind the door, carefully blocking whatever lay beyond. He forced a smile at Wolfwood, "Yes, can I help you?"

Wolfwood tilted his head, willing the man out of the way, "I'm looking for my three friends. You seem to have their clothes."

The other man's eyes widen curiously, "Oh?"

The priest glared, "Yeah. One's a tall blonde man - complete idiot with a penchant for exponential property damage." The man maintained a blank gaze, and Wolfwood continued, "Wears red. Like the coat . . . over_ there_!"

The man shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He turned to leave, but Wolfwood caught his arm, "You mean to tell me you actually want to keep that broom head?!

Something flickered in dark eyes, "He didn't seem that bad too me . . ."

"Ha!" Wolfwood grinned, suddenly losing his long forgotten cigarette, "Gotcha. You know who I'm talking about. Now, if you could just take me to him, that loud girl, and her cute partner I'd be much obliged."

The man shifted defensively, "I'm not sure if . . ."

The door knocked into him gently as Milly poked her head out, "Mr. Priest! I thought I heard you!"

He grinned at the insurance girl. The other man sighed, grudgingly stepping to the side and allowing Milly to lead the priest inside. He blinked against the shift in lighting.

And again against the sight that greeted him.

Wolfwood raised his hand questioningly, "Milly, who's that?"

Curled into the far side of a ratty, brown couch was a frail, sweet faced girl. Her short, oddly bent blonde hair fell in planes around her face, shading shocked blue-green eyes. Numbly, she pet a small black cat that seemed equally distant. Beside the couch was a large, cloth-covered spatula.

Milly looked him in confusion, "Who? Mr. Vash?"

"Oh, come on!" Wolfwood laughed, "You don't expect me to believe that _girl_ is Vash, do you?"

She just shrugged, "Why not?"

He laughed again, swiping at the tears in his eyes. Sure, the whiny fool had managed to get himself into the strangest imaginable situations, but . . . The girl before him couldn't possibly be the Humaniod Typhoon. Even if she did look remarkably like Vash. Like a sister of his would look, in fact.

Frowning, the priest questioned, "Tongari?"

The girl jerked, eyes focusing on him. She smiled guiltily, "Uh . . . hi, Wolfwood."

His jaw dropped open. There was _no_ way. It was impossible. And yet, the evidence sat right in front of him, content cat purring in her lap. On a second glance, she looked more like Vash than any mere sister would. His friend's already effeminate features had been refined further, placed into a more delicate face, but it was most definitely Vash.

His mouth worked open and closed again before he found his voice, "What about Meryl? And my cross?"

Milly smiled cheerfully, pointing again to the couch, "Oh, they're right next to Mr. Vash."

Onna-Vash's eyes strayed to the cat in her arms and over to the spatula. Then she winced.

***

"Oh my poor Cross Punisher!" Wolfwood sobbed carefully into the cross beam of his weapon, preventing his tears from falling onto it.

Vash and Meryl glared at him. "What about us?" they demanded.

He hugged the cross closer, sniffing disdainfully at them, "You deserved it."

Meryl flexed her hand, recalling the claws she'd wielded only hours before. Dangerously quiet, she hissed, "I _what_?"

Wolfwood considered, obviously keeping in mind her predilection toward violence, "Well, not you. Tongari definitely."

"The only one who deserved it was the man who attacked us!" yelled Vash.

"Hmm. At least your curse is fitting." Vash's eyes appeared to glow momentarily, but the black-clad minister dismissed the idea as he continued, "I mean, you _have_ always seemed a bit fruity to me."

Vash's eyes definitely _did_ glow this time, as he stalked over to Wolfwood. He pulled the other man violently from his mourning and slammed him into the wall. In return, Vash's feet were swiftly knocked out from under him. He dragged Wolfwood down with him, however, and they commenced to tussle.

Ignoring the fight, Milly asked suddenly, "What happened to the man who attacked us?"

***

Midvalley repositioned his Sylvia yet again as he watched Legato scan the mesa calmly. All of the available Gung-Ho Guns had been gathered together by swift telepathic command, which had an interesting way of making _everyone_ suddenly available. Their blue-haired commander took quiet satisfaction that they had all appeared before him so loyally, but his concentration was currently diverted elsewhere.

The man who had identified himself as the caretaker of the springs worriedly pressed his palms together beneath Legato's unrelenting stare.

"So. . ." The caretaker wetted his lips nervously, "So you're here to retrieve your friend?"

Amusement flashed briefly in Legato's visible eye, "Yes, our . . . friend."

As the caretaker swallowed and nodded shakily, Midvalley smirked. Legato was in a playful mood. And while that did not bode well for Hoppered _now_, it certainly would for the Hornfreak _tonight_.

The poor, harassed native picked something up from the ground beside his feet - a kettle? - and set off silently across the mesa. The Gung-Ho Guns followed apathetically, sparing their unusual surroundings only the occasional glance. The pools were more densely packed and refreshingly clear than any other such areas the Guns had ever visited. But their reputations and uneasiness about their current mission both prevented any thoughts of exploration.

They neared a pool still swirling with the disturbed red sand that had obviously somehow been spilt into it. The shining shell of Hoppered's Göterrier lay beside the pool, in dirt furrowed by desperate fingers. It was bent, damaged irreparably. And in the pool itself, floating face up, was a large, black and white mass.

"Hmm, Spring of the Drowned Panda," commented the caretaker.

Legato carefully nudged a boot into the animal's meaty, soggy side, "Explain."

The caretaker stared at him, debating the merits of running away screaming from this band of freaks. Legato felt the panicked motion of his thoughts and tilted his to the side, yellow eyes examining the man contemplatively. The caretaker shivered, "Of course. The waters of the pools were seeded with ancient, cursed waters brought by the original colonists. Anyone who falls in is cursed with the form of whatever creature drowned in the spring back on Earth."

A menacing, sardonic murmur arose in the gathered ranks.

Legato pushed his toe hard against the beast, "Then Hoppered the Gauntlet has been compromised."

"No!" the caretaker choked out. "There is a way to turn him back-"

The blue-haired man shook his head, "No matter. He is expendable." He grinned suddenly, "And food."

The other Gung-Ho Guns backed away from the pools surreptitiously. That was _not_ the fate they had expected to see Hoppered dealt. Mulling over the disturbing, if oddly arousing, images of being punished similarly, Midvalley clutched Sylvia closer for comfort.

The water of the pool lapped gently at its shore as the panda-creature suddenly awakened. Feral, frightened eyes found the distinctive white of Legato's coat as Hoppered's still-human mind realized his leader's intent. Finding leverage where the Gung-Ho Guns least expected it, he launched himself from the cursed water.

And into Legato.

He stumbled, overpowered by Hoppered's sudden momentum and weight. Both fell in a rolling heap to the ground. The Gung-Ho Guns again edged away. As Legato dodged claws and jaws, his mind worked furiously to get around the strange block that the curse melding humanity and bestiality together had created around his opponents mind.

It wasn't working.

"Midvalley!" he commanded, turning with the force of a blow.

Midvalley nodded, gauging the situation before bringing Sylvia to his lips. The deadly sound waves impacted on the ground before the struggling pair, rippling rock and dirt upward to throw Hoppered off Legato and toss the man in the white-coat clear.

Well, that was what he intended, at least.

The backwash of the sonic undulations hit against Legato, knocking him with perhaps more force than Hoppered. Momentarily stunned, he was unable to recover and Midvalley could only watch with growing mortification as his leader skidded to a halt in yet another spring.

With nimbleness before uncredited to pandas, Hoppered rolled into a run from where the blast has pitched him, aimed directly at Midvalley.

"Oh, shit."

Midvalley curled his arms protectively around his saxophone as several hundred pounds of enraged black and white fur collided with him. Pain cracked in his forearms and slashed down his side. He almost thought he was suffocating for a moment, right before the weight suddenly disappeared.

Splash!

And the he was suffocating because water is clearly not meant to be breathed.

The remaining Gung-Ho Guns reached for their weapons as one as Hoppered turned to face them. He raised a large-clawed paw and let out a primal roar. The others took aim. Hoppered decided it was most prudent to flee.

As he galloped into the distance, the Gung-Ho Guns refocused on their attention the caretaker. And their weapons.

He sighed, "Help me pull them out."

Dominique strode forward to fish out both Midvalley and his clothes, which everyone took as a bad sign, while Rai-Dei and E.G. went to fetch Legato.

The oddly matched pair soon returned, no little confusion coloring their expressions, clothing and a duck clutched in their hands. They shrugged slightly.

With an arm load of pink and tan suit, Dominique presented the new form of their resident Hornfreak to the group - a cute, brown piglet with a tiny toy saxophone held tightly between it's hooves.

"Huh," the caretaker said. "That's almost as weird as what happened to the cross."

He twitched as he realized what he had said. The duck flapped angrily at Rai-Dei while the piglet made adorable, unintimidating bwee sounds.

Dominique fixed him with a one eyed glare, "Cross? Who else got cursed today?"

Mentally, he swore. He couldn't even lie to these folks, "A man in red - Vash - and one of his friends. This little black haired girl. I never caught her name."

"Not the priest?"

"Yeah. But his cross did. Odd, I never knew that could happen."

The duck flapped again, loudly. The caretaker started as he suddenly remembered the kettle at his feet. He picked it up, noting that the desert was quite useful for insulating heat. In the daytime at least.

A quick application of the hot water left Legato naked at Rai-Dei's feet and Midvalley clad only in his saxophone.

Calmly, the caretaker explained, "The curse-forms you assume are only temporary. Cold water activates them, but hot water changes you back. But the curses themselves are permanent."

"You will find us a cure, or die," asserted Legato coolly.

Ignoring him, Dominique brought the conversation back to her earlier point, "What was the curse? Vash's?"

Aware that he was doing the man no favor by replying, the caretaker said, "Spring of the Drowned Girl."

Laughter scattered across the mesa.

"Well, that certainly makes things easier for Knives," snorted Midvalley.

Dominique kicked him, "No, it _doesn't_. He can still fight in his curse form. Damnit!"

"Then we are useless to Him." The quiet words drew everyone's attention back to Legato. Head bowed, he continued, "We are too weak."

Midvalley cringed, "Is there anyway I could talk you out of telling Knives about this?"

***

"Ma'am? Are you writing up the report?"

Meryl sighed, a finger plucking idly at the typewriter in front of her, "I'm trying to, Milly. But . . ."

Milly stepped all the way into the room, letting the large-headed black cat in her grasp jump down. It padded up to Meryl's chair unhurriedly, rubbing itself against her again tights-clad legs.

Unconsciously reaching down to stroke the cat, Meryl continued, "But will they believe me? And what will they do if they do believe?"

"I don't know Meryl. Call us back?"

Meryl slumped down in her chair, "That's what I'm afraid of."

Milly was silent for a moment. Then, hesitantly, she began, "But it's not like they'd believe it, anyway."

Her partner straightened, "Right! And we wouldn't want to confuse them."

"Absolutely."

"So I'll just tell them the important stuff. About that strange man, or whatever, who attacked and that those springs are very, very dangerous. And that - " Suddenly, Meryl's eyes widened, halting her mid-tirade. Slowly, her gaze slipped toward the black cat.

"Meryl, I think he likes you," Milly giggled.

Meryl screamed, "Milly! Get your damned cat off of me!"

***

_ So Vash has been cursed as well? Interesting_, Knives' voice flowed coolly across the edges of Legato's mind. __Use it against him.

His servant stared blankly through the window of his cheap hotel room.__ So you are not angered that I have become unworthy, Master?

_ You were once worthy?_ Sly, cruel amusement.

Legato whimpered, __No! Of course not, Master.

_ Continue as planned._ _Don't question your importance to me, Legato._ __And don't get wet.

He almost sighed, his master's words sending a thrill of contentment through him. He grasped at the tiny morsel of approval.

Which Knives soon stole away again, _And_ __start looking for a replacement.

-----------

A bit shorter than the last part, but that's okay. The first part was shockingly long anyway. A bit more serious too, but the next part will make up for that. grin Oh, yeah. Heh, and isn't it funny that Meryl (a good guy) lies to her boss whilst legato (a bad guy) is completely truthful no matter what?

Ranma 1/2 is copyright (c) Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Entertainment.

Trigun is copyright (c) Yasuhiro Nightow and Young King Ours. 


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